


you make me smile

by ladanse



Category: DCU, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, mostly because i really wanted to write one of these, suit store/nerd store au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladanse/pseuds/ladanse
Summary: "Barry," Bruce rumbled, in a tone that meant many things, notably: what is going on, who the fuck is this, your break isn't for another half hour, have you embarrassed yourself rambling and scared away a customer, the back is for EMPLOYEES ONLY as I have told you eleven times, and worst of all: oh God, you think he's hot."Hi, Bruce," said Barry cheerfully. "This is Victor. He's going to use our microwave."--or, Barry babbles, Victor suffers, and Bruce and Diana commiserate, all because I wanted to write a suit store/nerd store au :P





	you make me smile

**Author's Note:**

> title from colbie caillat's "bubbly" because I couldn't resist
> 
> credit for this idea of course comes from [this tumblr post](http://stevebarnacles.tumblr.com/post/168517744457/lesbianchrispine-orarewedancy).
> 
> enjoy y'all!

Barry liked to consider himself - well, if not an expert in the making and selling of every video game every created - at least, someone who carried knowledge in everything that a potential customer at the Game Stoppe would ever need, in feasibly all universes.

However, the tall guy with a prosthetic metal arm and leg, who was tall and broad and goddamn hot - and to top it off, wearing a tailored suit - well, Barry had no fucking clue what he was after.

"Hi," said the subject of literally all of Barry's hopeless fantasies.

"Hi," Barry squeaked, mortifyingly. The man raised an eyebrow. "Welcome to Game Stoppe," Barry said, very quickly. "We, uh, have every game you could possibly need, and probably some that you don't, so there's that, you know, unless you're looking for the fourth special edition of Justice Unlimited that was briefly released in eighty-nine, but look at you, why would you need that, I'm the only one looking for that, probably, so what did you - "

"Can I borrow your microwave?" The man's expression hadn't wavered in the slightest.

"What," said Barry.

The man blinked, a possible indication that Barry was getting on his nerves. Then, "Sorry," he said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I'm Victor. I work over there - the Mr. Mac? It's just, I'm on my lunch break, and you guys have a microwave."

"Right," said Barry, because this made a sensible kind of sense. "Sure," he said, then, and because he was literally incapable of shutting the fuck up, "we have a microwave in the back, it's a little old and smells like fish no matter how many times I clean it, but - "

"It's fine," Victor said, cutting him off. "Thanks."

"No problem," said Barry, and booked it to the back.

Bruce's expression when Barry walked into the cramped office, followed by Victor, was possibly the only good part of the whole miserable encounter.

"Barry," he rumbled, in a tone that meant many things, notably: what is going on, who the fuck is this, your break isn't for another half hour, have you embarrassed yourself rambling and scared away a customer, the back is for EMPLOYEES ONLY as I have told you eleven times, and worst of all: _oh God, you think he's hot._

"Hi, Bruce," said Barry cheerfully. "This is Victor. He's going to use our microwave."

Bruce began to raise an eyebrow, and Barry hurriedly looked away. The eyebrows were the Worst.

"Hi," said Victor, and then said nothing else, apparently unconcerned about the stiff silence.

Barry, however, was very concerned. "So, uh, Bruce," he began, "I tallied the expenses over last week's totals, and I think we're a little off track for normal Christmas shopping targets, and, not to sound, like, nagging or anything, but I _did_ tell you two weeks ago that we needed to look into better advertising, and I already do website design, so I was fine redoing that even if you weren't going to pay me - "

"He's legally required to pay you for overtime," said Victor, cutting the microwave (and, incidentally, Barry) off neatly before either of them annoyed Bruce.

"Sure," said Barry, fixated on the way Bruce's nostrils had flared, just slightly, in challenge. "But I really don't mind - "

"You should," said Victor. He pulled his food out of the microwave, and nodded at Barry. "Thanks," he added, and then walked steadily out.

There was a pause.

"I'm not paying you overtime," said Bruce.

"Sure, sure, I know," said Barry.

"He can't use the microwave again."

"Yup, definitely."

"And you're going to redo the website. I won't pay you for that either."

"Yeah," said Barry, and because he couldn't resist, "but you'll pay my next semester's tuition, right, because you're like a sugar daddy but without the sex - "

Bruce's hand twitched, like he was going to throw his pen at Barry's face. "Get out."

Barry, wisely, did.

 

\--

Two weeks, and Diana needed to say something.

"You're back late," she noted, as Victor walked up to the register and began clearing away old hangers.

"My lunch break is half an hour."

"Yes," Diana said, "but you never take longer than twenty minutes."

"It's none of your business."

"You were at Game Stoppe again," she deduced. "You never brought microwaveable food before."

"Now I know it's an option. So, I use their microwave. Are you done?"

Victor watched Diana sigh. "When are you going to ask him out?"

"I'm not," said Victor, reflexively, and Diana laughed.

"You haven't even finished your food, Victor. You spent thirty minutes talking to that boy instead of taking your break. If you don't ask him out - "

" - you'll what?" Victor asked. She just quirked an unfathomable brow. "That's what I thought."

Diana smiled. "I need to make a call," she said, and walked into her office.

 

\--

Barry watched Bruce's phone buzz, and then watched the corner of his mouth tick upwards at the caller ID.

"Secret girlfriend?" he asked.

Bruce snorted. "Not likely. Hold on, I need to take this."

Bruce was gone for ten minutes, in which a very buff man in a terrible Hawaiian shirt came to the counter and asked to see the manager. When Barry informed him that the manager in question was busy, the man just sighed, winked, and told him to "tell that hot piece of ass that he better show up, he knows when."

"I can't say that to him," said Barry, feeling a bit desperate. "I do, actually, value my life."

Bruce chose that moment to finish his call. "Arthur," he said, in a tone of long-suffering exasperation, "please stop harassing my employees."

"Actually, it was you he was hoping to harass," said Barry, and Bruce actually laughed.

"Asshole," he said, fondly. "How's Mera?"

"Still holding out for a threesome," said Arthur. Barry's eyes went painfully wide, and Arthur looked at him. "Ah. Your kid believe everything he hears?"

"Mostly," said Bruce, "and he's not mine."

Arthur looked at Bruce. Bruce looked at Arthur. Bruce's shoulders tensed, slightly, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Goddamn, your daddy issues are enormous. You're invited on Saturday, by the way. Brunch. Don't bring the teenager."

"I'm twenty-five!" called Barry at his retreating back, but it was hopeless. "Also," he said, pointlessly, "brunch is such a weird kind of meal. I mean, why would you - "

Barry was interrupted by Bruce's coffee upending itself all over his shirt.

"Whoops," said Bruce.

"What the _hell_ ," said Barry, and at Bruce's murderous glare, shrunk back. "Sorry," he said, though it wasn't his fault. "Uh, do you have an extra shirt?"

"Nothing I'm letting you wear over that. Go get cleaned up."

"But Bruce," Barry whined, "the mall bathroom is like, five floors away, you can't make me - "

"They've got a bathroom," said Bruce, pointing. Barry followed his gaze.

"The suit place?" he asked, incredulous and wincing at the volume of his own voice.

"Go," Bruce said, in a voice that left no room for argument.

When Bruce said things like that, one didn't object; so, Barry, dripping and miserable, slinked his way into the bright, polished gleam of the Mr. Mac.

When he stepped in, he was immediately met by soft jazz and the smell of tasteful cologne; also, by a woman who was tall and beautiful and looked like she could possibly kill Bruce without breaking a sweat.

"Hi," said Barry. "Can I, uh - "

"You poor dear," said the woman. "Go ahead," and she pointed toward the back.

"Wow," said Barry, "can you read minds?"

The woman smiled sweetly. "I have good intuition," she said, and left it at that.

 

\--

"Diana," said Victor, very calmly. "What did you do."

"Me?" said Diana, reorganizing the Armani rack. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. Why is _he_ in our bathroom?"

"Some mishap or another, I suppose. I didn't get the details. And," she added, briefly reappearing, "it won't hurt you to say his name."

"Barry," gritted Victor, just to be perverse, and of course he chose that moment to reappear, inexplicably shirtless.

"You know my name," said Barry, looking delighted. The lean lines of his abdomen rippled as he began folding whatever was in his hand - a wet shirt?

"Of course I know your name," Victor said, caught out, "we've talking for a month now."

"No, I've been babbling at you while you tolerate me, there's a difference," said Barry, looking increasingly delighted. "Does that mean I get that fist bump now?"

"No." Victor watched, pained, as Barry made a complete mess of the folding job. "Give that here. Diana, could you get him a shirt, please."

"I'll look for one," came Diana's voice, already getting farther away, and Victor resisted the urge to sigh.

"Damn," said Barry, still looking like several of his hopes and dreams had been realized. "I'll wear you down eventually."

"No, you won't." Victor handed the folded shirt to Barry. "Open it up carefully. All the wet parts are on the inside."

Barry inspected the bundle. "Dude, you're a genius. And don't worry about the shirt - I think Bruce has something I can wear. See you!"

Victor raised a hand in farewell, and let his eyes follow the curve of Barry's jeans out the door.

 

\--

It had been another week, and Barry was pretty sure he'd managed to wear Victor down to - if not friends, then at least, like, friendly acquaintances. Victor came to Game Stoppe almost every day, now, and usually stayed for a while before -

"The Jareds' is playing it again," said a voice directly at Barry's elbow. He jumped and upended a stack of action figures.

"Don't scare me like that, holy shit," said Barry, and then, processing, "Wait - again?"

"I know," said Victor, actually sounding a little frustrated.

"Wow. If I'd known it would take Mariah Carey to make you show emotion, I would have played her ages ago."

"Don't joke about that," said Victor, annoyed. "Besides, your judgment could never be as bad as the guys at that goddamn Jared's."

Barry considered his torn jeans and graphic tee. "Uh, you sure?"

"Hell yeah. They have no common sense, and none of their jackets are fitted." Victor visibly shuddered. "Besides, the other day, I saw one of their associates wearing teal. Teal? In the holiday season? It clashes with all of their decor."

"Of course," said Barry, grinning.

Victor laughed, just a bit, and Barry's heart jumped embarrassingly. "I'm not kidding. You have the whole, you know, disheveled nerd aesthetic going for you, but they're incapable of picking complementing navy and grey ensembles, which isn't even that hard."

"Aww, Stone," said Barry, batting his eyelashes, "I didn't know you liked my aesthetic."

Victor cleared his throat. "I mean, it works. With the whole, you know. Nerd store thing."

"Right," said Barry.

"Right," said Victor. "Uh - I'm gonna - " he gestured back towards the Mr. Mac.

"Lunch break over?"

"Yeah, ten minutes ago, actually."

"Oh, jeez," said Barry, "I'm so sorry, go before your boss murders you in your sleep, because she looks like she could make it look like an accident - "

"Diana?" Victor asked, puzzled. "She wouldn't - you know what, forget it. See you around, Barry."

"Bye, Vic."

"Call me that again and I'll give you a black eye."

"Nah, you wouldn't," said Barry, and watched the corner of Victor's mouth tick upward as he left.

 

\--

"You're late," said Diana.

Victor was aware of this. He was also aware that he was being a bit hopeless, so, ducking his head, he began to clear away hangers and hoped Diana would let him leave it at that.

Diana, of course, did not. "Victor," she began, and Victor clenched his jaw.

"This is my choice, not yours."

"Is it?" she asked. Her voice was gentle, which was worse than her usual sarcasm. "The boy likes you. You like him. So why not ask him out?"

"Look," Victor said, raising his left arm for her inspection, and watching the prosthetic shine uncomfortably under the store's fluorescent lighting. "The last time I was in a relationship, I didn't have these."

"So? He cares about you. It should not matter."

"Sure," said Victor. "But what if it does?"

"How will you know if you do not ask?" Diana smiled. "If you're _so_ afraid of losing the microwave, I can buy one - "

Victor lowered his arm, and sighed. "I'm not - you know what? Fine. I'll ask him exactly once, and then you will stop nagging me about it."

"We have a deal, then," said Diana, equably. "Now go on." She gestured to the door.

"What, now?"

"Why not?" Diana nudged him, insistent. "I'll cover your shift. Ask him to coffee."

Victor studied the cool implacability of her face, and then gave in.

 

\--

Game Stoppe's bell let out a pathetic ding.

"Hey, it's not lunchtime," said Barry, looking up, and then immediately winced. "Sorry! Not that I don't want you here, you're totally welcome, I'm just surprised, you know, since - "

Victor's shoulders, which had been very square when he'd walked in, grew even more tense.

Barry cut himself off. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," ground out Victor. "Barry."

"Yes?"

"Would you - uh." Victor stopped again.

"Yes, probably," said Barry, "but I'm gonna need more details. Do you want to sit down?"

"I haven't even - let me finish," said Victor.

"Okay," said Barry. "I'm gonna have my phone on hand, though, just in case I need to call 911 - "

"This is ridiculous," Victor muttered. "Just - would you. Like to go out with me. Coffee or something."

Barry stared at Victor.

Victor stared at Barry.

"Yes, definitely," said Barry, finally, eyes wide. "But, uh, just one question. _What_?"

"No questions," said Victor, flatly, although he couldn't stop the helpless grin that was sneaking onto his face. "I only promised Diana I'd ask."

" _Diana_ talked you into this?"

"She annoyed me into it," Victor corrected, "because she thinks I've been moping - "

"Have you?"

Victor studied Barry's face; he looked disbelievingly happy, like Bruce had given him a day off, or something, but he also looked - well - nervous.

So - "A little bit," Victor admitted, though it was like pulling teeth. The lines of Barry's smile relaxed, and he felt oddly vindicated. "Does Friday work?"

"Sure. I mean, Bruce is going to murder me, but he definitely owes me more paid leave than like, anyone else at this mall, so - "

"Friday, then. Four."

"Four, sure, that works," said Barry. "See you then. Well, I mean, I'll still see you tomorrow - I will, right? Now that we're - I mean, now that you - "

"Yeah," said Victor, finally letting himself smile. "Tomorrow."

 

\--

"Why do I ever listen to you," said Bruce. He was tired. He wanted a beer and also to get away from all this young people shit, possibly forever.

Diana crossed her arms over her chest, not bothering to look at him. "Because I would kick your ass if you didn't," she said, and Bruce nodded, conceding the point.

In the middle of the mall, by the fountain, Barry was holding up his longboard and gesturing, quite emphatically. Victor was shaking his head no, also emphatically; Bruce reassessed his judgment of the kid's common sense. Then, Victor's shoulders slumped, and he nodded, laughing, and took the longboard. Stripping off his jacket and handing it to Barry, he stepped on the longboard, adjusted his prosthetic slightly, and took off across the mall.

"YES!" Barry yelled, very loudly. "Remember, you've got five minutes!"

Victor flipped him off without looking. Bruce reevaluated Victor once again.

"Ah," said Diana, sounding fond. "Young love."

"Too young," said Bruce. "He's working unpaid overtime for this."

"Bruce," said Diana. "It's Christmas."

In the distance, the wail of mall police sirens began. Bruce sighed, watching Barry panic and knock over a miniature tree, sending ornaments plinking loudly to the floor.

Barry met Bruce's eyes, and mouthed, _Help_.

Bruce, not looking away, shook his head. Barry's gaping grew more desperate.

"For goodness' sake," said Diana, and waded in. "Come on, Bruce, you owe me." 

Bruce felt an unwilling fondness make itself known in his chest, and sighed; then, he rolled up his sleeves and put on a charming smile.

After all, it _was_ Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos & comments much loved y'all!! hope this mess was suitably fluffy!


End file.
